


This One's For You

by AeeDee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Romance, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry goes down on Iris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This One's For You

**Author's Note:**

> A friend made a good suggestion: "maybe something about a vibrating tongue". I dig it.

Her nipples are swollen and protruding from beneath her dress, and when he pinches one of them, she gives a sly smirk, a hint of mischief in her eyes. She scrapes her teeth across her bottom lip, eyelashes heavy with the dramatic suspense of it all and she hooks a leg over his shoulder with a quiet laugh; “Quit fooling around, mister.”

“It was my impression,” and he looks up at her from where he’s kneeling in front of her, knees pressing against the cold floor and he’s barely managing – hardly trying – to suppress a grin, “that a certain someone enjoyed this sort of thing.”

“Mmmh,” it’s somewhere between a whimper and a low purr, extended for emphasis and she shrugs her shoulders. “I said I liked _foreplay_.”

Fingers lightly grazing over her nipple, he’s caressing her breast almost fondly and there’s affection in his teasing. “This doesn’t count, huh?”

She places her hand over his, gripping it tight and lacing her fingers through his affectionately as she playfully moves his hand away from her chest. “Not exactly.” Lifts it away for a moment, and then presses his fingers again to her body; her lower stomach, his fingers ghosting against the soft satin of her dress and when she nudges his hand downwards he’s getting the hint. Follows the seams of her dress playfully and traces the path further down.

Her grasp of his hand loosens until her touch drifts away, her palm settling and pressing flat against the surface of the table as she spreads her legs farther apart. Hikes up the leg that’s draped over his shoulder, her ankle pressing into his back as he leans forward. 

“Subtle,” he murmurs, but his hand arrives there before his mouth does.

A hand that snakes beneath the edge of her dress and he glances up at her, at her face when she shivers – subtly, so subtle he almost doesn’t notice – from the coldness of contact against her bare skin. The silhouette of his hand beneath the shiny fabric and she’s biting her lip, with a slow tilt of her head and the craning of her neck; his touch is exactly what she needs. Intent and slow, a caress that starts at her clit and rubs down in a straight line, fingertips ghosting over the folds and teasing her entrance. It’s already a bit wet, so he seizes that advantage to massage there, in small intent circles that start slow and gain speed as he slides a finger in.

Keeps it simple and slides it in deep, massaging her inside and she’s sighing from the slow-building ache and the almost painful tension. Her clit starts to swell and her thighs are warm to the touch; warming right up when his free hand traces across her skin, a brief contact before he gathers at the hem of her dress and lifts it back. The fabric spills in her lap as a tightly wound bundle of black satin, and the rush of more air to her sensitive cunt makes her sigh contentedly. A deep sigh and her body is tensing around the finger that’s inside her, and she’s increasingly wet, so wet now that he doesn’t just feel the cum sticking to his hand, he’s catching the scent of it, he’s hearing the sound of what it’s like to penetrate a slick entrance that grips and tenses with every touch and tug and push further in. Starts to slide a second finger inside her and she’s tensing, she’s tensing so much before she notices what her body’s doing and relaxes, a heavy exhale and as her chest falls from the mighty rise there’s enough room, enough give. The second finger’s inside her and he figures that’s enough of a tease.

He’s made her wait for long enough.

She’s biting her lip and almost battling to steady her breathing as he moves those fingers inside her, coordinating them in deep and smooth circles as he sinks forward, his free hand on her thigh to steady himself. He breathes and the exhale teases her bare cunt, the soft satin is at his nose and he’s almost amused by the clumsiness of the arrangement. It’s not their most elegant evening.

Didn’t even make it to the bedroom before his hands were unhooking her bra. She almost tripped over her underwear while she slid it off, stumbling towards the table and telling him to do it right there, kiss her there, touch her right there and it felt so silly at the time.

A brief smirk –she’s not looking down at him to even see it – and his tongue touches her clit before his lips close around it. A slow kiss and he licks at it playfully, and Iris is making an incomprehensible noise from the back of her throat, from behind pursed lips as he continues to move his fingers inside her, rubbing and pushing and getting as close as he can to fucking her with that hand.

Makes love to her clit for a moment, gives it the attention it deserves; licks at the swollen hood, the protruding bud and kisses just beneath it, massages against it with his tongue, and gives it another kiss; this time a strong one, one with suction that makes her audibly whine. Licks from her clit and down, to where his fingers are penetrating her, tastes some of the cum off his own hand as his tongue sweeps down and then up her slit. Licks her slow and deep, tasting every inch of her skin he can reach, the familiar scent and taste of her cum intoxicating in how familiar it is, how reassuring to get her this wet.

He likes the taste, too. Licks it up like it’s sweet and something to be savored, and teases her entrance as he continues to work his fingers inside her, licking and tasting the warm cum as it drips out of her. Kisses her entrance for a moment, a slow exhale and the warmth of his breath makes her whine again, this time with an affectionate, “silly boy.”

He knows what she means. Silly boy, naughty boy, dirty boy. Sometimes she spills those more honest words, sometimes she doesn’t. 

But he loves the taste of her, loves the feel of her and he does what he can to prove it.

Leans back for a moment to think on it, and gently, slowly slides his fingers out. A thin line of cum from his fingertips to her cunt and while he thinks he licks his fingers; just briefly. She notices that, and laughs. Faintly. When his eyes glance up to meet hers, the smile she sends is warm and comforting; it makes his chest feel tight and his mind a bit less clear.

And more, in a way.

Leans back in with just his face this time, pressing a kiss to her entrance, now swollen and flushed. Glistening wet and the cum is still leaking out of her, some of it drying on the surface of the table where it dripped down. The edges of her black satin dress, still so shiny but now with dried spots and streaks of cum and saliva, some odd mix of both and it smells like her, smells like that taste he loves and he buries his face in that bundle of fabric for a moment. Enjoys the scent and feel of it, the dirty, soft luxury of it and turns his attention back to what matters most.

“Barry,” and her voice is a barely audible whisper, her lips remaining parted even once she falls silent; she closes her eyes and immediately her breathing is accelerating, it’s speeding up and she’s gasping faintly, and then whining and then almost moaning in pain and suffering, some broken rhythm of tension and ache and gasps of pleasure. Head tilted back and then idly drifting, shoulders slack and senses unfocused and she’s losing the composure of her body, having to lean back against her arms to steady her own weight. Her arms remain the only coordinated motion she’s aware of, only enough to keep her stable and even then, it’s only a matter of several seconds and she lays flat against the table, eyes gazing hazily up at the ceiling; lips parted and out pours those broken sounds, gasps and sighs and faint exclamations of pleasure, mouth open and those hollow sounds echo out in the room.

Those sounds and the beautiful, unsettling rhythm of what he’s doing to her. 

An almost melodic hum and the honest slick of how wet she is, her damp dress, her sticky thighs, the table as it creaks beneath the weight of her body as he moves, moves her to that slow, humming rhythm.

Fingers lodged deep inside her and vibrating, a blissful spark of raw pain from how much she aches, the tension of inevitable release. But not yet. No, not yet because he’s making love to her clit. Alternating the vibration deep inside her cunt with a steady hum from his tongue and that rapid massage is teasing in small circles and tasting her up and down, less slow than before. More ravenous; more desire. 

He’s licking her clean as he works her for everything she can give, drinking from her like she’s something holy; fingers vibrating at that steady hum, stroking deep inside her and it’s not long before his tongue finds its resting place at her clit, sucking and vibrating against it with such a rapid hum that she starts to moan out loud, neighbors be damned, she forgets her concern for the paper-thin walls. 

There’s so much pressure; there’s so much pressure inside her and she knows these are the final waves. When the pleasure builds and it has nowhere to go but to overflow. When the pain and the dizzying ache and the bliss reaches the crescendo, and all she feels is what he’s doing to her and all she hears is her own voice and the smallest details; the way he sighs with his own pleasure when he savors her taste, and the satin whispering of her dress draping up across her lower stomach as he slides it out of the way.

And her broken moaning when she locks her legs in place and starts to shake, the tremble that starts in her toes and travels through her thighs and up through her stomach. Closes her eyes and loses herself in the final rush of pleasure and the rise and slow-down of the world when she comes.

A final exhale and as her breathing slows her hands are wandering, to fondly, affectionately trail her fingers through his hair as he laughs quietly. “Darling,” he says. 

_“Barry_ ,” she murmurs, and that’s the highest compliment of them all.


End file.
